


Four Times Kalden Shared a Forehead Touch

by charbax



Category: Masquerada: Songs and Shadows (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Death, Forehead Touching, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sick Fic, Spoilers, amadea has a minor role, death mention, no she doesnt die thats not why the death tag is there, partially, that is; after all; the name of the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-01 12:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charbax/pseuds/charbax
Summary: ...and the one time it was shared with him. Kalden & Vint, Kalden/Jaxus, and a smidgeon of Kalden/Cicero.





	Four Times Kalden Shared a Forehead Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a hella long time ago but haven't gotten around to properly fixing it until now. I just wanted more Kalden in my life. I took the slliiiight liberty to make up some of the Bright Chorus because I'll need to replay the whole game to get some lines for it and icbf lmao. I hope the words fit in nicely.
> 
> Kudos and comments fuel me :D

-1-

Vint’s forehead was burning underneath his palm, and it was not from the pile of blankets upon blankets heaped upon on her. Normally, it would be too many for the habitual restless child, but tonight it was needed to help with the fever.

An eye cracked open, dull and dark, before it closed again. Vint grimaced all the while. “Kal…”

Immediately, his hand started carding through her hair gently in slow motions. “I’m here Vint.”

“Stay. Please.” She murmured. His heart ached for his child, fever-ridden and distressed, while confined to bedrest until the worst of her illness had been sweated out.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She sniffed unhappily but quietened, calmed by the repetitions. The only sounds in the room was her faint breathing and the sheets of rain pitter-pattering upon the windowpane. It was only when her breaths turned even that Kalden gave one last brush before sighing deeply, leaning back in his chair. She showed no signs of stirring again, and probably wouldn’t, until her morning coughs disturbed her rest.

She was strong, he reminded himself. She will endure this and emerge as healthy as she has ever been. Still, Kalden remained at her side, watching the nightly rain outside. The dark and rain seemed to be common themes with Vint, he mused, for her firsts. First meeting, first child, first fever.

As if sensing that line of thought as well, Vint stirred. Kalden’s attention instantly snapped back to her, but all she did was shift then settle again.

Kalden, ever so carefully as to not disturb her, laid his head upon hers, his nose brushing against the hairs at her temple. He stayed there for a breath, then lifted his head again to give her a soft kiss on the forehead, before getting up from the chair. He avoided all the floorboards guilty of creaking, giving a very amusing image of a large man tip-toeing carefully out of the bedroom, and closed the door when he exited the room.

-2-

Colds and fevers were not uncommon, but when their child went from chasing her siblings to barely lifting her head from the pillow, it can shake even the most steadfast of fathers. Jaxus was lingering in the doorway, wringing his hands when Kalden left Vint to sleep fitfully.

“Vint’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” He whispered, lest he wake Vint up. “She’s strong, we bought all the herbal remedies, left plenty of water where she can grab it…there must be something else that we missed. Did we miss something?”

Kalden shook his head. “All she needs is rest now, then by the week’s end, she’ll be fine.”

Jaxus eyes darted to the door, the corners pinching in worry. Kalden saw the fidgeting of his feet, how his hand rested on the doorknob, as if eager to enter Vint’s room and return sitting vigil as he had been before Kalden took over. Kalden’s face softened with empathy. He had a healer’s knowledge to comfort him, of knowing that Vint’s hot spell was normal, encouraged even. Jaxus did not - he would have to draw reassurance from elsewhere.

Kalden’s hand cupped the back of Jaxus’ neck and slowly brought their mouths together for a kiss. Jaxus’ mouth went lax against his. It was more of a press of a lips, a reaffirmation. Kalden drew away to rest his forehead against the other’s, smiling when Jaxus tried to follow him to lengthen the kiss.

“We have done everything for Vint. Have faith in her.” He said.

Jaxus chuckled weakly. “The upmost of it. But I still worry, you know?” He tipped his head for another kiss, and this time, Kalden obliged.

“Now,” Jaxus said once they parted. “Shall we put the rest of our brood to rest?”

_Our_. The word never failed to strike a spark of affection deep in Kalden’s chest, and his smile grew all the wider.

“Yes.”

-3-

Kalden had just finished clearing the last of the supper’s plates from the table when there was a knock at the door. Both he and Jaxus looked at each other, before Jaxus dried his hands on a towel and went to answer it. His face was pale when he returned.

“Kal, it’s your brother. He needs to speak with you.”

The plates were dropped unceremoniously into the sink of water, but Kalden disregarded the splash as he went to the door, opening it to see his brother standing in the dark, chest heaving as if he ran all the way from the Silver Spire, Ombre finery and all. His brother jerked his head up when Kalden appeared.

“I-” Razitof started. “I’m glad I caught you at home. May I have a moment?”

Kalden glanced back at Jaxus, who was now joined by a worried looking Vint. Jaxus mouthed ‘go’, then steered Vint and the children upstairs, to their rooms. Kalden turned back to his brother, holding the door open. “Of course. Come in, the children were being put to bed.”

Razitof stepped across the threshold and made a beeline for the recently cleaned table, sitting down in one of the chairs. Or rather, collapsed onto the chair, like a carriage falling over on its side. It was only now, within the lamp’s light, that Kalden could see how red Razitof’s eyes were behind his spectacles, which he took off to wipe at the tears proper.

“Before I start, do the walls have ears?” Razitof asked.

Kalden frowned. Yes, his brother is prone to bouts of crypticness from time to time, especially in his line of work, but even to this extent…something must’ve happened, in the White Spire then.

“I can promise you, everything said in this house will not leave it. You have kept my secret safe. I will guard yours.”

At this, Razitof slumped even further onto the table, head in hands. “Then have you heard?”

“Heard of…?”

“Of the custodian smuggling the mascherines out of the White Spire. In fact, he was in the middle of the act with other Maskless when- when his brother found him.”

Kalden’s eyes widened. Mascherines stolen from the Hall of Bearings? Its Custodian behind it? And there was only one brother within the circle of Inspectorres who fit that description-

“Razitof, don’t tell me it was-”

“Cyrus. Cyrus is- _was_, the leader of the rebels.”

Kalden reeled. For betrayal to happen so deep in the heart of the Citte, by one who was upholding one of its most fundamental practices, it was enough to unnerve him. He could only imagine it would have on the Registry and the Masquerada. While he, and his faction really, had no strong political ties to them, the devastation it could cause was immeasurable.

Razitof continued. “Cicero couldn’t make the call to turn against his brother, or side with him. Cyrus was later killed by Lucia, but not before a great number of the masks were gone. A few of the Maskless escaped.”

“And what of Cicero?” Kalden carefully asked.

Razitof’s voice fell to a whisper. “Because of his hesitance to punish the rebel leader, he was sentenced to death as a traitor to the Masquerada. To be made of an example to those who hesitate against its enemies. As he stood upon death’s row, I convinced the jury to send him and his remaining family to exile instead, never to step upon the Ombrian soil ever again.”

“Then he is alive.” Kalden said.

“But alive is not good enough!” Razitof’s normally thin voice rose, and so did he as he leapt from the chair. “He is innocent! He had no hand in this chaos, he loves the Citte too much! He never wanted to be part of this madness! I’ve tried everything, made every argument, tried to convince the Spire that he was not part of the maskrunners and yet-!”

Kalden gently enveloped Razitof into his arms. The endless sentences stopped, before arms encircled in return.

“I thought I could at least clear his name.” His brother whispered in a broken voice.

Kalden only squeezed tighter. “You made sure a man and his family could leave with their lives.”

“But not without their honour. Now they are barred from a Citte that holds no love for them.”

Kalden frowned, leaning back far enough to place his forehead against Razitof’s, making sure to stare deep into eyes so much like his own. “This is not a failure, do you hear me? Because of you, Cicero still has his life and his family. They have a chance to start anew, across the Belt, and hopefully away from this mess.”

Razitof said nothing.

“Alright?” Kalden gently pressed.

Razitof closed his eyes, but at least the frown lines were less pronounced, and his face less haunted.

“Al-Alright.” He conceded. “Thank you, Kalden.”

Razitof was there when Kalden needed someone the most. It was the least he could do.

-4-

Cicero looked so deathly still, and despite all his knowledge of healing, the sight has never failed to fill Kalden with despair.

But even then, in between the fall out of taking down Lucia and tending to the Sailheart, Kalden still found time to sit in the chair beside Cicero, meditating, or possibly praying, while waiting for Cicero to do _something,_ anything.

How quickly a person could change in his eyes – from the cold Inspectorre who wanted to exclude him from his own brother’s investigation, to tentative ally, to close friend. Perhaps even more than that. Ages, it was a long time since Kalden felt fluttering in his chest since- since Jaxus.

But he would give it all away for Cicero well-awake and smiling at him, not in that bed. Kalden closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest on Cicero’s, nose brushing against nose, tears threatening to spill over the other’s still face.

“Please, come back to us,” Kalden pleased hoarsely. “Come back to me.”

Cicero said nothing, for how could he?

He had to leave Cicero’s side eventually, as much as he hated it. The Sailheart couldn’t run without his guidance for long, no matter how steadfast Vint was (and in many ways, he saw much of Jaxus’ influence, like in the stern set of her jaw and steely conviction. She and Tiziana would get along swimmingly). He gave Amadea a wan smile as he passed her at the door, while she took his place in the chair on the bedside. It seemed that she brought a new book every time it was her turn to watch Cicero. He shut the door behind him, and sighed.

+1

He still lingered outside the door, gathering his thoughts with a hand to his face. He had no idea how long he stood out there as people bustled past him, some casting pitying looks in his direction, others portraying indifference as their own way of comforting him, but he stood there long enough to feel a soft touch on his shoulder. He looked up.

“Kalden?” Tiziana asked, voice softer than he had ever heard in their short acquaintance. “Is everything in order?”

“I...yes. Nothing’s changed. Cicero is still asleep.”

Tiziana’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I meant as in, are you alright?”

“No.” Kalden sighed. “But I will go on as I have. I have no choice.”

“There’s a difference between ‘going on’ and ‘living’. It’s no good of you to be moping around as if Cicero’s died.”

Kalden avoided her gaze. “Each day that passes diminishes whatever little hope there was when that light appeared-”

“Which meant this world is not done with Cicero yet. And neither should you.”

Kalden winced. Tough love was still tough, even with the most heartfelt of intentions.

“Kalden.”

He….really doesn’t know why he’s isn’t sidling around her to continue making his way to the sailheart. He doesn’t know why she was gripping his shoulder in an almost painful way. He only glanced upwards when he feels the soft touch of her hair against his forehead, and when he does, he finds himself looking into a steady glare.

“I can’t promise that Cicero would wake up. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. But there are still people here, who are still working and fighting, who could do with the help of a good person. I’m talking about you, if you didn’t know.” She added the last sentence quickly, like an amendment. Kalden felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but he let her continue. “I’m not saying that Cicero is a lost cause. But would he want you to mope around him as if he was?”

“I...suppose not.”

“_Even if clouds persist, falters not the sun, __for it knows, the daylight will be won._”

Kalden looked at her with mild surprise. “The Bright Chorus.”

“Yes. Do not hide your light because there is despair and doubt clouding us. I...hope the metaphor makes sense.” Tiziana leaned back and patted his shoulder with a bit more force than necessary, awkwardness ringing in every movement. “I apologise. Comfort is not my strong suit, nor speeches. I’m saying what I think was needed.”

“...thank you.”

Satisfied, she gave another smile, one more pat, then she stepped back. “Now that’s done, I must return to my duties. The paperwork and delegations never seem to end. Come find me if you want to relieve me of my boredom.”

“I will.” Kalden promised. She left with a wave over her shoulder. He didn’t move immediately, still soaking the last of her words. She was truthful in the sense that neither of them would know when Cicero would wake up – _if_ he did. It felt unfair, to the man who had lost so much already and tasked with the impossibility of saving a Citte, and he wasn’t even awake to bask in the accomplishment-

No. In spite of his thoughts, the world still turned without Cicero in it, and there was still much building to re-do. He set down the corridor in at a steady pace. Kalden better make sure the Sailheart – and the world – was ready when Cicero came back.


End file.
